Prisoner
by here's some fudge
Summary: There's a scarf. And Bella's imagination. You do the math. Oneshot lemon, complete.


**Summary:** There's a scarf. And Bella's imagination. You do the math. Oneshot lemon, complete.

**Rated: **Mature for sexual content.

**A/N:** I'm going to repeat what I said about my first fic, This Little Death: For the most part this could be inserted into Breaking Dawn's honeymoon, but I wrote it with the intention of ignoring Breaking Dawn and going with my own imagination-devised honeymoon for E/B where they find creative ways to get around being unable to have sex. Keep that in mind.

Also, the title is obviously from the quote "Bring on the shackles, I'm your prisoner."

*****

"Since when am I the one who has to be gagged and bound?"

"I'm not gagging you, Bella," he said patiently, wrapping the material around my left wrist. "Besides, they would never hold me." He flashed a smug grin up at me. I glared my reply.

"You could always pretend."

"This was your idea," he defended.

"Exactly. It was _my_ idea."

He sighed good naturedly, rubbing my elbow. "And I'm making the best of it."

He had me there. I swallowed my pride and didn't fight him as he tied my wrists together with the scarf that had started this whole thing.

Once he was satisfied with the security of it, he leant back, his thumbs carressing the inside of my arms.

"There. Your blood circulation isn't cut off and your wrists can still breathe." I snorted under my breath. His fingertips found my chin, pulling it up until my gaze couldn't avoid his. "That was a question, Bella. You need to tell me - I need to know if you're comfortable."

"Why does it matter?" I knew the answer to that -- I was simply trying to get on his nerves.

Edward's face turned somber. He leaned forward until his nose was mere centimeters from mine. "We've gone over this. I can't hurt you, Bella."

I wavered under his stare and tugged at my binds. There was no way I was getting out of this without his help.

"It's fine," I admitted, nodding dumbly.

His knuckles grazed my cheek, lingering before he jerked back from me to admire his handywork. "Good."

From my view, everything was more than good. I was as happy as a bee when Edward wasn't wearing a shirt.

Of course, I didn't have one on either. He'd make quick work of that - and the rest of my clothes - earlier.

My hands had been left north of my head. Slightly hindered, I struggled to watch him as he slithered down my body. It didn't work. All it got me was a neck cramp. Sensing it, Edward stretched up and rearranged me without barely lifting a finger.

"Better?" he asked when I relaxed into a pillow. I nodded and he returned to work.

He tapped the back of my knee and my legs opened without question. I hadn't asked why he hadn't used the bedposts or bound my ankles but I imagined it had to do with him refusing to cause me more discomfort than was already guaranteed. We could get to that later, if I toiled my hours away nagging him.

His hand grasped my right foot and stretched it up, tickling it. I giggled once before snapping my mouth closed.

"Edw-"

"Don't make me rethink the gag, Bella."

He laid one open-mouthed kiss against my ankle, and then, carefully, ever so carefully, touched his tongue to my skin. My mouth gaped open, my body tensing and loosening as it shuddered. This was different.

His eyes stayed on me as he traced his tongue from my ankle to my calf.

Oh, it was_ very _different.

His expression might have been pensive but his eyes had a fire in them. Edward was having fun with this. It was nice to see, but in hindsight, I didn't know if I liked it. He had too much power.

The Edward I'd known at the beginning of our honeymoon wouldn't dream of asking to tie my hands together.

He paused above my knee, his breath blowing suddenly out. I flinched. His finger pressed against a forgotten wound, soothing the sting. "You cut yourself," he whispered, eyes moving to mine for confirmation.

"Earlier," I said. My voice sounded raspy even to me. I was trying to catch my breath and nothing had really happened yet.

You couldn't get away with one little shaving cut when you were married to a vampire.

He grimaced, running his finger over the indent in my skin that was bound to be pink by now. "Bella, you don't have to--"

"Shave?" I ground my teeth together in exasperation. "Yes, I have to shave, Edward. I'm not a caveman."

"It wouldn't matter to me, though," he insisted. "You know that." My leg had tensed in my upset, but his fingers hadn't stopped running over the careless injury.

Agitated, my hands pulled at their restraints uselessly. "Do you want _me_ to gag _you_?" Frowning deeper, he shook his head. "Then stop while you're ahead."

And he did, for the most part. It was like he had internal light switch. One moment he was frustrating, the next he was seductive. Both facets of Edward had their pros and cons, but I preferred the latter.

"Tell me about it," he murmured.

"What do you mean?" I stopped. "The cut?"

Watching me with a stillness that was eerie, he nodded.

I was very close to asking if he was on anything, but it would have been a fruitless thing to ask. He was riding a high that when he sobered up he would either regret or repress.

This was definitely my favorite Edward.

I bit my bottom lip, shifting unconsciously. "I just... bled."

"Bel-la," he sing-songed, grinning up at me. There was something dangerous and unpredictable to that grin.

On an impulse he'd otherwise resist, Edward opened his mouth and, instead of using it to chide me, pressed his tongue against the small indentation my razor had made. I'd had that wicked tongue on me before, and each time was like a jolt of energy.

Surprised, my body lifted and shuddered, my leg yanking backward. Edward was quicker, trapping it with his hand so I didn't strain myself.

And then, smiling at me like I was something to eat -- and I was, come to think of it -- he traveled up my body, stopping at my stomach to drop kisses around my belly button. His fingers let go of my knee, gliding up my thigh. I gasped and wiggled closer. Another kiss, and then he spoke.

"I can make you climax without touching you there," he promised, breathing out against my lower stomach. He was _smirking_ at me. Smirking! "Would you like me to demonstrate, sweetheart?"

His dark eyes were shining mischievously. I blinked one, two, three times, floundering for consciousness.

I was aware of three things.

One, I was hugely turned on.

Two, I was gaping at Edward like something out of a comic book.

Three, I really had to thank Alice for buying that scarf.

I squeaked, and he laughed. "That's a no."

He dipped his head -- finally! -- and licked at my skin, circling the ring of my bellybutton. His groan with mine was simultaneous. He kept it up, his mouth lighting a fire to my body. I didn't care what he did to me anymore, as long as he stopped fooling around and got to the point.

"Edward," I panted, desperate for friction. "Edward--"

"Yes, love?"

"Please." I was begging. Was that what he wanted?

He canted his head. "Please what?"

I threw him the best murderous look I could muster. "Not--fair--"

Taking that as his cue to stop, he moved to incline backward, and I bucked frantically, despairing. The scarf dug into my skin, but I pushed against the headboard with my fingers. If I hit his body, I didn't care because I didn't feel the impact. "Please. Please touch me. Dammit, Edward, please!"

The universe must have taken pity on me, at last.

"Good girl," he praised, raising my leg. The foreplay ended as he palmed me.

_Thank you, God._

I relaxed, sated for the time being, up until his fingers recharged me. The tightness in my stomach was torturous. My eyesight blurred. If it hadn't been, I'd have seen how dark his eyes had become.

I was a bit preoccupied.

"I've never told you how amazing you are," he talked to me as he kissed my lower abdomen, moving downward as he went. "When you're like this. No inhibitions. It's glorious. Bella, you're glorious."

My orgasm came with a bang. Edward made up for the neglect, swiping his tongue across me until I literally wailed as I fell apart.

Afterward, the restraints I'd been pleading earlier to have off came undone with one flick of his wrist. With them free, he pulled my arms toward him, kissing and nuzzling the reddened parts of my wrists where I'd done my best to combat the binding.

I was exhausted. Intoxicated with contentment.

"My hair isn't sticking up," he mused, nose in my skin. "This is new."

I slipped my sweaty leg over his, sharing my body warmth with him. "What?"

He shrugged, smiling openly at me. "You have a penchant for hair pulling."

My cheeks flushed a red I didn't find nearly as endearing as he did. Edward shifted to raise himself over me, stroking my face. "You get carried away, Bella. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

I hissed, "I do _not _victimize your hair." That wasn't precisely the honest to god truth, though. My eyes floated to his hair, remembering the many times I'd run my hands through his hair before, after, and during these moments. Sheepishly, I added, "Well, not intentionally."

He rumbled a chuckle at my expense.

My eyes roved the bed until it found what I was looking for -- an abandoned piece of fabric, rumpled but otherwise in perfect condition. I picked it up, curling it around his white arm.

A thought hit me. My nose wrinkled. "I was beat by a scarf."

Edward stretched over me, kissing my forehead. "You never had a prayer."


End file.
